


Dis/connected

by natalie19h34



Category: SKAM (France)
Genre: And soulmates, Falling In Love, Living Together, M/M, Sofiane's a good friend, Strangers to Lovers, brief mentions of neurological disorders, mention of bipolarity specifically, one might think i love lucas' eyes, they're dramatic and in love what can i say
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-04
Updated: 2020-01-04
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:41:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22115023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/natalie19h34/pseuds/natalie19h34
Summary: He was being startled out of his somber thoughts rather abruptly, as a distantly familiar feeling spread across his left arm, originating from his fingers, his palm. The unexpected tenderness stood in such violent contrast to his mood, that it caused him to immediately stop dead in his tracks. A tingling heat; a barely there; it was..or: Eliott is all cold, until one touch from Lucas changes that. They share a few bonding moments.
Relationships: Eliott Demaury/Lucas Lallemant
Comments: 9
Kudos: 85





	Dis/connected

**Author's Note:**

  * For [juliettes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/juliettes/gifts).



> Inspired by a veiled story, a kind dusk and the incredible juliettes (@unquaintly on tumblr), whom this work is dedicated to and whose talent amazes me beyond words - thank you. 
> 
> This is basically a wild play with words and structure & a combined feeling.

_(A day in the evening, sometime later in the year.)_

Blurred reds and yellows; blinding lights. A surreal feeling of solitude in a richly stuffed setting. In seasons like this, every day felt like a déjà-vu of sorts. 

The current weather events presented insistent rain and piercing coldness to the land, as if to match his own unrelenting inner rigidity; a merging blue; a viscous combination. 

Actually, he hadn't planned to walk all the way to the train station at all, especially under the given circumstances. He was no prick, per se; it was tiredness, that clawed at his bones, that prevented him from constantly maintaining a socially expected level of polished politeness.  
Instead of waiting and freezing and doubting, he could very well be sitting in this peacefully quiet library a few minutes away from his home, a personal favorite, and let the dusty warmth, pleasant lighting, undiscovered narratives calm his nerves. 

In contrast, he couldn't enumerate satisfying reasons for being here; solely accidental arbitrariness. An unfounded intuition. 

The display panel to his left informed him about an approaching train, coming from the far east. 

_Estimated time of arrival: (in) 4min._

Really, there was no need for him to be here.  
The guy would have found the address on his own, Eliott was sure of it. 

And yet… 

"Did you have a pleasant journey?" 

"Indeed, thank you." 

"It must've taken long." 

"Uhm, I guess. I found distraction, so it went by rather quickly, thank you." 

…and yet. 

* * * * * * * * * * * *  


Living with a stranger in his own apartment was highly different than Eliott had expected.

Admittedly, he had avoided his new flatmate for the better part of the first week, besides giving general instructions and a vague, quick tour through the premises right in the beginning, followed by him pretending to be _very busy_ and having to get some _things_ done. He just couldn't stand this awkwardness of a new acquaintanceship and how people oftentimes seemingly felt an obligation for convulsive interactions. 

So he hid himself. In his room; in the library; at Sofiane's. 

But as the ninth day happened to be one offering no possible distraction (no uni classes, an already closed safe space, his friend being occupied elsewhere and _there was no food at home_ ), he was clueless.  
Feeling an inkling of productivity running through his system, he decided to tackle the solvable problems of foodlessness and boredom at once and go grocery shopping, like a responsible adult.  
Pocketing keys, wallet and phone, he went out into the hallway to wrap himself in warmth. 

There was some rustling.  
Then-

"Hi." 

Eliott looked up. A sight of shining virtuous bodies in low light. 

"Hey. I'm, um. I'll go, buy some food and stuff." And as an afterthought "Do you want me to grab you something?" 

Some more rustling. Honestly, since a week his whole living room floor was covered in books and sheets and notes, it was insane. Like, why didn't the guy make a mess in his very own twelve square meters? 

"Oh you go to the supermarket? May I accompany you? I'm ready in a minute!" 

Eliott has never heard anyone talk about such a dreary matter with this measure of merriness in their voice; sitting on the floor in a sea of paper and ink; with a touch of shyness but also open, sparkling joy. Odd. It was odd and made Eliott feel slightly more uncomfortable. 

A shrewd gaze. 

"Yeah, why not."

\-------------

After a few minutes outside, it started to drizzle. Perfect. Their destination wasn't far away by any means, but suddenly every step felt a little more exhausting than the last one, as if all and every of these little dribbles of water were gathering on top of Eliott's form, sinking through his layers of fabric and skin and tissue to amass deep inside his core. Just smelling the slightly humid air was-

He was being startled out of his somber thoughts rather abruptly, as a distantly familiar feeling spread across his left arm, originating from his fingers, his palm. The unexpected tenderness stood in such violent contrast to his mood, that it caused him to immediately stop dead in his tracks. A tingling heat; a _barely there_ ; it was.. 

"I- You looked sad. And strained? Positively tense." He was quick to explain. 

At the lack of response, the guy- _Lucas_ \- was about to pull his hand away and Eliott couldn't exactly elucidate, justify his actions as he tightened their hold. They didn't know each other. Like, at all. Usually, he stolidly despised an invasion of that kind. Yet today, the entirety of factors desired the uncommon, a change of mind, apparently. So he held onto the given. _Firmly._

\-------------

As some time went by, it got clear: everything and nothing had changed identically. To an unsuspecting observer, it may have seemed like two dissimilar characters shared a limited amount of space, solely out of pragmatic reason. Which wasn't all that wrong, superficially seen. But. _Still_. 

Even through silence and unspoken words and undone touches they had been able to create a certain intimacy; or maybe even because of, which brought him back to his thoughts of _it shouldn't be like that; how could his expectations regarding such a situation of simplicity have turned out to be null and void?_

A basic move.  
It was ridiculous. 

He didn't hide anymore, after this discovery of an easy togetherness. Stopped sneaking around his apartment and started to live in _theirs_. He almost felt.. 

..content. 

The change also brought a few interesting detections with it. Or maybe it was solely Lucas, who harbored a strikingly wondrous charisma, which might have evolved Eliott's former aversion into a certain kind of admiration. 

_Might._

\-------------

Lucas came and went at all hours of the night and day, no routine whatsoever, seemingly. Eliott never asked what he did; in his free time; for a living. He was no one, who openly infiltrated other's privacy like that. It was a matter of respect, although he couldn't help observing and contemplating. 

At first glance, Lucas might have looked like resembling an uncomplicated, unsealed book - easy to access, effortless to decipher, if one wanted to. But beholding the second layer underneath the thin, permeable outer one, a mass of wildly interwoven mysteries could be discovered. If purposefully created or not, Eliott found it rather exhilarating to unveil, even bordering on unsettling at times.

Still, Eliott found him odd.  
And he told him so. 

After Lucas had asked for them to be a little less closed off and a little more open, all _please_ and _thank you_ and _cerulean irises_ , he tried to show some good will. 

Hence-

Leaning against the doorframe, staring, he exclaimed: "You're strange you know?" 

Flinching, Lucas looked up at him, then, sitting cross-legged in the middle of his usual papern chaos, that could as well be part of the furnishing by now. It honestly conveyed a remarkably homely, lived-in flair, thinking about it more closely, and-

_Wait, what? No.  
Chaos wasn't comforting, all of a sudden.  
It wasn't. _

"I-" A hint of crimson spreading out. Really, now. "Excuse me?" 

It might have been Eliott's prolonged stare, or his undiminished bluntness, as he repeated "You're strange, did you know?", that caused a full on blush. 

A short silence, definitely disbelief.  
"No. I.. I did not, in fact. What makes you say that?" 

Careful to step on as little papers and books as possible on his way, Eliott entered the room to sit down across him, leaning against the cupboard. Taking a brief look around, he was confronted with a wild mixture of plenty of calculations and charts, various labeled depictions of the human brain, some music sheets. Even a collection of Hungarian poems a few centimeters in front of him. 

"Well, firstly, this." Eliott gestured at the mess. "Obviously." 

"Oh, um, I'm sorry. Really. Does it bother you?" 

"Yeah. I mean no, it did, but not anymore. No."  
He felt like a six year old, no eloquence whatsoever. _God._ He cleared his throat audibly. 

"I'm honestly sorry. It's just, the lighting and atmosphere in here are rather mind-stimulating." Lucas giggled, abruptly, as though he's made a joke, which was.. bewildering. 

Eliott made an acknowledging sound to feign understanding. 

"Anything else?", his counterpart asked. 

"I noticed.. that you don't close your bedroom door. When you go to sleep. Like, ever."

"Oh. That." The blush was still on his cheeks, but Lucas didn't clarify any further. 

Apparently their conversations didn't pass off as smoothly as their shared silence. It could be something to work on, though, because.. 

"You're nice, though. You seem nice, kind. Likable, I guess." Pretty much a confession. 

At that, a big, gleeful smile spread across Lucas' face.  
And there was a touch of warmth seeping out of this other human, flowing through the room like waves, reaching dark and dusty corners, seeping right through Eliott's shell; liquidating and melting; he felt mellow all over.

\-------------

So, getting to know a person wasn't as horrible as he'd thought, in the end. Just.. 

"You look..", Sofiane started, contemplating. "-different", he settled on. 

"Ah. Care to elaborate?" 

"Do _you_ care to elaborate?" 

Shit, his best friend had always been disturbingly good at setting apart his nonchalance. Eliott sipped at his tea, cherry and peach, another favorite.  
He wished he could fast-forward to - - - 

"It's, well, my living situation", he avowed. 

"You mean the chaos?" Sofiane by far didn't look as shocked as he sounded. 

"No. I mean, partly, but it's.. its creator." 

"The guy? Who, miraculously, is always out in town when I'm at yours? Wow, he must be someone special to conquer your heart this fast." 

"Noone's conquered anything", Eliott answered defensively. 

"Oh, so is he at home, then? Now that _we're_ out in town?" He was having a good time, apparently, being complacent; next, softer "But seriously, I'm so happy for you, Eliott. It's what you deserve."  
Even when smug, Sofiane's personified cordiality, really. 

\- - - this point. 

Eating and drinking in good company, just watching wandering people and spending time. 

The sun started to settle behind a semi-pervious collection of clouds, coloring the sky a faint yellow and gloomy slate-blue. Dullness expanding above crowds and crowding; in seasons like this, every day felt like a déjà-vu of sorts. Oh, how Eliott missed the sun. At least he didn't feel as cold anymore as he used to, he detected repeatedly. It was okay, good even. 

Later, Sofiane suggested a walk in the park, a visit in the library. And maybe Eliott told him, under gleaming stars, between colorful adventures,  
how he, maybe,  
after all, might have fallen  
a little bit in  
_love._

\-------------

"Eliott?" 

"Mmh?" 

"I'd actually like us to spend some time together this evening, if you don't mind." Voicing such a statement that directly was rather bold by his standards. "We could bake something together?" 

So that's what they did. Preparing the elixir of energy, namely tea, for the both of them, he waited for Lucas in the brightly lit kitchen. Nervousness crept in. A creaking parquet floorboard. A vision of navy. 

"Why do you always wear the same color?" And when did he start to ask such many questions, Eliott asked himself. He needed to get a grip on it, for heaven's sake. 

"I do not. And I like it." Barely two meters. "You don't?" It came out as clear interest. 

"Is it because of your eyes?", he blurted out. Fantastic. 

"My eyes?" 

"Yeah, they're- blue. Like, abnormally so." He was a lost case, apparently, so he quickly continued to busy his body. Removing tea bags and opening a drawer to take out two spoons, he-

"Um, I'm sorry, but I don't use spoons." 

Eliott turned around and simply stared for a few seconds, his lips parted in disbelief. Surely, he'd misheard that?  
"What is that supposed to mean?" 

"It means that I don't use spoons. I dislike them." Lucas' tone didn't indicate any jocularity. 

_What?_

"You- but how do you eat, like, soup then? Or yogurt. Rice pudding?" Admittedly, he felt utterly confused by their conversation. A reoccurring thing, as it seemed. 

"Well, I don't", came the answer, matter of factly. 

And that was just unbelievable. How could he not eat rice pudding? Mixed with a hint of Ras el hanout and a bit of juice of a pomelo for the contrast, it was one of his most cherished dishes. And besides, who would have a personal preference in cutlery anyway? 

Eliott laughed out loud, then; unexpectedly and vividly; hoarse from disuse. 

"Good, okay." And after a second "You're-" 

"-strange?" Lucas interrupted, grinning, brow raised. 

_Yeah. Yeah, but we like strange; a lot._

After this new discovery, Eliott only agreed to baking together under the condition of being in position to choose the recipe.  
And they worked well as a team. Eliott managed any matter, that involved one or more spoons and Lucas handled everything in between. A quasi-portrayal of symbiosis.

\-------------

There was a murky uncertainty in the air, since a few dozens of hours, in their apartment. Eliott had immediately felt it, as he'd woken up, eerie and gray and a little torn. How it had weighed down on him, his mood. 

It was still there, now. Recognizable in Lucas' closed bedroom door, in the heavy stillness, in Eliott's continuing stomach ache. Frankly, he did not know what to do. 

_(He'd known the cause of half the happenings, at this time, had put the pieces together, deep down, but there was denial and papery hope.)_

So he'd watered cacti and succulents, sparsely, lit some candles and sat down on the couch, sketchpad and pencil in hand. He sighed. Where was this _mind-stimulating atmosphere_ , Lucas had been talking about? It must deem him unworthy, as it seemed.

"You're lacking inspiration?" 

Bless the deities. He looked up. Lucas radiated less tense fatigue than before, it still concerned Eliott. 

Lucas plopped down right next to him, adding "I've heard I'm doing excellently as a muse."

"You want me to draw you?" 

"Mmh sure, why not. I mean, I'm not exactly a model, so-" His light was way too dull; it was all wrong. It wasn't like he, himself, was unfamiliar with darkness. Yet, he sensed a difference. How could he fix it? 

"No! You're- it's perfect." A few seconds of silence as they simply looked at one another.  
"But I actually feel like visiting the library. It's nice there and warm. There's much to explore, I promise. Come with me, please?" 

Gifting him with a small smile, Lucas took Eliott's hand in his.. 

"I'd love to, thank you."

..and didn't let go.

\-------------

They met up on a Sunday. Sofiane had been insistent about getting to know his flatmate.

_"You can't just keep him all to yourself, Eliott, that's not how things work!"_

The two of them went along as well as expected. It wasn't jealousy, per se; and evidently not rationality. He definitely felt rather peaceful, listening to Lucas' and Sofiane's animated conversation about numerous scientific issues and studies; their shared love for disgustingly sweet candy; neurological disorders. 

"I didn't know about that", he interrupted their talk. There might have certainly been a better time and place for this, but he was taken by surprise. 

Chewing, Lucas put down his fork. "It's good now, with the medication, actually. Haven't had a seizure in months."

"Oh! That's excellent. I'm glad. And, um, do I need to pay attention to something? Um, in particular?" He was perfectly aware of how weird he acted.

Lucas raised an eyebrow, a custom.  
"I can take care of myself, you know?" It was said without any malice, only traces of kindness and amusement. 

"Oh, yeah no, I know! I'm bipolar." Sofiane to his left choked on his water. "Not that it's the same, of course it's not, but I get you."

"Well, thank you for telling me, Eliott. Let's just agree on.. we're both independent adults, who are going to be there for each other. How does that sound to you?"

Terrific; too much; far not enough.  
And he'd believed him, the grown-up part and all. Just. How Lucas constantly managed to smear food all around his mouth while eating, like a child would maybe do, had shortly distracted him. He found it way too endearing. 

"Great", Eliott breathed, eyes still locked. 

"Lovely. You two are so lovely, look at you!", Sofiane exclaimed with a tad bit too much volume in his voice for the setting.

\-------------

It was storming outside. Wind and rain knocking harshly against the windows of the apartment, a lightning illuminating the night sky. As he was laying on the couch, with his head in Lucas' lap, he didn't mind the weather, though.  
Staring at Lucas' lips, moving to form soft vocals and lilting consonants just for him, _just for him_ , he was under the impression of having accidentally slipped into a parallel universe; or heaven. 

The book itself had looked tremendously boring; all yellowed cover and disproportionately big, bold letters; an uncanny painting beneath. The author sounded quite familiar, but honestly, Eliott was more into the English classics. Still, Lucas' voice was so soothing, no need to be picky.  
His eyelids got heavier, mind hazy and fuzzy and he desired to never ever awake. 

He must have fallen asleep, finally, since as his senses slowly came back to him, the room was covered in easy silence and nimble fingers drew patterns on his chest absent-mindedly. He hummed at the feeling. 

He'd only been half-correct. 

"I need to tell you something", Lucas whispered. 

The slight tremor in his voice might have been a mistake, an illusion, an accident for sure. He didn't want to risk anything out of mist and uncertainty; not when the stake was so high, unmatchably so. It would not only affect his body functions: his heartbeat and respiration and muscle activity and.. 

"I tried to find a solution, Eliott, I did, but I couldn't. I can't."

He didn't want to help Lucas do the right thing, not really, and it was incredibly selfish, greedy, everything in between and around. But Eliott couldn't stand seeing the accumulation of tears swimming in those azures. 

It would vanish, fade, _hurt._

He sat up, intertwined their hands, a reassuring habit. 

"It's about the letter, isn't it." It wasn't formulated as a question. He'd seen it, a couple of weeks ago. Fairly, it had been quite hard to miss; secured in a beige, thick-papered envelope, with fancy lettering and unsubtle wax seal. It had radiated high importance, was drenched in shattered hopes and promising careers. Yet, back the, in denial,.. 

He took a deep breath. Stuttering just slightly. 

"Isn't it what this mess is about? Scattered all across our living room? To succeed, heal?" 

Lucas looked frantic and exhausted, suddenly, as he responded "It is. It is, and it's also about getting to know myself and to learn and it's my passion! Bu- but it's not- I mean.." He hiccuped. 

In hopes to comfort as well as to occlude, Eliott planted a quick, firm kiss on Lucas' lips. 

"You're talented, I know it. You'll be stellar. Simply phenomenal." He hoped his love, heavy and hot, rushing through bloodstream and seeping out of his epidermis, unhindered, reached Lucas' despair and let it melt; evaporate. 

"But I want both, Eliott. I need both; this and us." 

"I know." _I know._

* * * * * * * * * * * *  


_(A chilling day in the morning hours, circa nine months of a year later.)_

Standing at the train station, Eliott thinks about how in seasons like this, every day feels like a déjà-vu of sorts. Most of the hours are dominated by early darkness and pale sunshine; a demoralizing monotony. 

He is giddy all over; nervous feet and hurrying heart and tingling fingers. It's exhilarating to find a new home; in a person, that is. 

His mind is racing, too. Thinking about everything and nothing in equal capacity and..

_Estimated time of arrival: (in) 4min._

..and maybe they were meant to coexist: in such harmony - in unclarity - in love;  
Standing next to the tracks, waiting to hold and be held. With a promise. And a future.. in the future.

\-------------

_(A conversation, many days, weeks, months prior, even before love.)_

"I don't- I can't live with my father." 

"And your mom?", Eliott asked sympathetically. 

Lucas merely shrugged, but didn't elaborate. 

"Hm. How was it like, your old home?" 

"Blue", it came after a while.

"Blue?" 

"Cold. Lonely. I felt trapped by the dust and silence." 

Although Eliott felt like protesting, blue couldn't possibly be a negatively connotated color, inconceivable, he didn't dare digging deeper. Instead, "And how does it feel like living here, in this apartment?" 

The answer came immediately, as if already on the tip of his tongue. 

"Orange. This, here with you, feels like home to me." He added, rather hesitantly, "How it should be." 

_…How it should be…_

…How it is.

**Author's Note:**

> If any questions arise, feel free to ask ^^
> 
> [ & to my lovely friend Klära: good to know there's someone, who's willing to endure my rambling. Much love to you ;) ]


End file.
